


Sunny Thoughts

by ayas3ri



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland Fusion, American McGee's Alice in Wonderland, But He's Regretting It, Depression, Drinking to Cope, Explicit Language, F/M, Gore, M/M, Murder, Recovery, Stan Is Depressed, Stan is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 22:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayas3ri/pseuds/ayas3ri
Summary: [He closes his eyes. And dreams.What does the boy dream about?He dreams about peace and a world built from his own imagination. A kid’s land, where nothing bad can touch him. A land he’s not ashamed of because no one knows about it. It’s his own, he is the ruler, he is the King of Hearts. Every card, every single fantasy creature, dances at his will. It’s the only place where he is in control of his emotions, of the circumstances around him. Nothing can touch him.And he rejoices. He can’t wait for night to fall so he can return. He just has to close his eyes and see –The ruin that has befallen the castle.]





	1. Chapter 1

He closes his eyes. And  dreams. 

What does the boy dream about? 

He dreams about peace and a world built from his own imagination. A kid’s land, where nothing bad can touch him. A land he’s not ashamed of because no one knows about it.  It’s his own, he is the ruler, he is the King of Hearts.  Every card, every single fantasy creature, dances at his will.  It’s the only place where he is in control of his emotions, of the  circumstances around him. Nothing can touch him. 

And he rejoices. He can’t wait for night to fall so he can return. He  just  has to close his eyes and see – 

__The ruin that has befallen the castle._   _

His pretty smile turns into a frown  at the sight , at the bloodstained tiled floors and at the murdered creatures decorating the hall.  The throne room was a mess, a dark moonlight ray shining through the cracks in the walls.  The  tall ceiling looks about to fall, and debris crushes mangled bodies. Flesh and guts and bits of bone stand place of candelabra and windows . Veins pulsate on the floor, undulating around the big throne, which lost the golden shine it once had.  There is a stillness in the air and in the boy’s big dark blue eyes as he feels like crying but has no heart left to do so.  He sits on the not-so-rightful throne , slumped,  crown not fitting on his head, knife in hand. Dripping blood, seemingly never-ending.  His lips feel dry, his eyes blank , his heart torn. 

He could – he will never escape. 

“Why…?” 

_ This was his doing.  _

“Why have you done this?” 

The hurt in the voice drives him aware. He stares at the White Rabbit – Tweek, the only one still alive. He was trembling in his breeches, his watch laying broken at his feet. Twitching like a spasm, as he was always doing, but not because of anxiety – his face was a mask of horror, yet he couldn’t turn away from the sight of it all. 

Grief, anguish, and  despair mixed  with fury in that one simple  ‘Why?’

“Why?!” The Rabbit’s voice cracked more than usual. Higher pitched than usual. “Why did you kill them?! They didn’t do anything! They-They followed your every w-word!” He was looking composure – but the King of Hearts didn’t care.

_ Did he  _ _ really just _ _ do this?  _

“We-We liked you! You-You were  su-su-su —”  Tweek hiccups, troubled.  “You were supposed to take care of us. We are your friends!” 

The boy could only think that his real friends were somewhere out there, diffused into oblivion and not giving a damn about his wellbeing. 

A nasal voice in the form of Chesire Cat’s voice whines somewhere in the background, unseen. “Don’t you see? He stopped giving a fuck.” Craig’s impassive face shows behind the White Rabbit, startling him more than he already was. But this time, the blue striped cat was not smiling – he was regarding the boy with a coldness that wasn’t characteristic. “What happened out there? Found something _better?_ ” He laughs bitterly. “I thought you said it was a cruel place – that… _real world._ ”

And it was, the boy wanted to shout , but he only closed his mouth; and steeled himself. 

“Don’t worry,” he croaks out, standing up with surprising ease.  He dusts his pants, feeling the ground shaking, the whole castle on the verge of collapse. Chunks of it fall next to the three characters,  dust decorating their hair and cheeks. 

It was time to wake up. 

“You’ll all be alive tomorrow.” 

With a gasp, he opens his eyes. 

He’s back. He’s alive. 

And he’s more miserable than ever. 

Lately,  it’s not so fun in Wonderland.

But what else could Stan do? 

His life was shit. His friends were shit. His family was shit. Everything around him sounded like shit. And only the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue could make him feel  alive.  When the world was blurry, he could feel happy. He did a lot of shit in that state, but he realized he didn’t care.  So what if he was driving everyone away with his stagger and insults and disgusting  apparel ?  So what if he was almost getting suspended from school? Who needed it anyway? PC Principal couldn’t do anything to him - and no amount of Mr. Mackey could make him feel better about his life. 

It was all utter shit. 

So he drowned and drowned and drowned into his own self-pity, spending his money on bottles of beer. He forgot how to be sober. Sometimes, he went home to eat something and spend that time ignoring his mother scolding him for being a bad son. Randy didn’t even bother, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it - wasn’t he the same? 

Like father, like son. But Stan didn’t want it to end like this. Ever since Wendy broke up with him, he has been a mess. He forgot how to be himself and everyone tried so hard to bring him back to the righteous path. ‘Fuck that bitch,’ they told him. But he couldn’t just forget all those years spent together, the emotions, the butterfly in his stomach, the intimate touches -

“Stan. Don’t give up on yourself.”

_ No. No. No  _ _ No _ _.  _

Not that voice. Not her.  _ Go away.  _ He shut his eyes - that gentle voice had the power to bring him back to reality. And he just didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to be redeemed. He wanted it all to end. He wanted to forget. That’s what Wonderland was for.

At first, anyway. 

He sought refuge there, and it was all good. He was happy. He danced and laughed and ran around the oversized mushrooms with his friends, his  _ real  _ friends ever since he was a child. At night, when he dreamed, they would come, embracing him into their world,  _ into the world inside his mind.  _ Even if they were shaped like real people, he treated them differently. Kyle - the Mad Hatter - was still his best friend. Cartman - the Queen of Hearts - was his nemesis, ruling the kingdom when Stan, the King of Hearts, wasn’t present. No matter what happened, he was still their ruler. Without him, Wonderland couldn’t exist. 

And he didn’t believe it would ever change based on his emotions. 

Stan noticed his friends weren’t very comfortable. There were earthquakes from time to time, making them all frightened. Has something come to threat Wonderland’s borders? It couldn’t be, but Stan was excited - he never fought a real creature before. He imagined dragons and trolls and giants coming to the kingdom and planning on taking the castle. He was a hero and, as one, he will defend his friends. 

The threat never came, but the shakes got worse each night. The sky darkened, clouds gathering over, blocking the sun. It gradually got colder and most of the critters ran into their holes to hide from it. There was confusion, slowly becoming panic. They all played pretend, the boy not letting them think too much about it with his unnatural cheery attitude.

Over time, not too long, Stan became as irritable as the weather. 

No one wanted to play with Stan Marsh anymore. 

And Wonderland started to melt. The mask was  off and the colors started to fade, melting into pools of grey. The forest died, turning into ashes and floating permanently into the air, bad to inhale. Everything seemed to  rot and, with it, the smell lingered in the air, making it hard to breathe. There were cracks on the floor, on the castle’s pristine surface, now turned rusty. The paintings of his friends turned evil, smiles turned to grimaces of pain and torture. People in Wonderland started not to feel so good - and even the Queen of Hearts started to cower at Stan’s wrath.

It was just the  Chesire who had an idea of what was going on. And he tried to warn them, tried to divert Stan away from disaster.

“Wake up, King. This is not the place for you anymore.” 

It was unfortunate that Stan snapped. And killed them all. 


	2. Waking up..

“Stan? Stan. Stan, please wake up.” 

His eyes flutter open and it takes  a while for the blur to vanish, replacing it with your pretty face. And worried eyes. And sweet,  sweet , smile. 

“You’re finally awake.” 

“Go away…” he instantly mutters, not quite being capable to form the words. He feebly attempted to push you away, but he doesn’t have the strength, still doused with sleep and toxic substances. “I don’t need you…” 

You don’t listen. You gently push him back into his bed and he sinks into his pillow. 

“I don’t need anyone!” he yells, louder. You ignore it. This wasn’t the first time you were by his side. The boy never paid any special attention to you, you just appeared out of nowhere. Took care of him. Annoyed him with your care, with your presence, with your words. More than once he has been violent with you, telling you off, and pushing you away. You always found your way back, making him regret it all.  

And you were planning on sticking around. Stan almost got used to it. He didn’t care if you were there or not - but that only meant he was lying. He missed you. Just like he missed Wendy. But Wendy’s face was blurred by shadows, while yours shone brightly above him.

Like the sun. 

“Can you at least let me change you out of these clothes?” you ask instead, unzipping his dirty jacket, stained with vomit. You’re used to it by now, seeing him in this miserable state. You were beyond feeling pity for the boy; your patience was  infinite and you were going to make sure that he fixed himself. He didn’t know about your intentions - you didn’t know either. Other than yes, maybe you’ve been  harboring feelings for him for a long time now, even before the big breakup. And you believed that if you were going to let him go, he’ll lose himself completely. Despite his complaints, he needed someone. A friend, more than a lover. 

And you were going to be that person.

Stan splutters something, then turns his face to the side, pretending he was upset with you. Inside his heart, in a dark,  dark  corner, he was grateful. He lifts his body slowly and extends his hands to the side. You do your best to take his jacket off, then toss it on the floor; the one that you cleaned up of any mess he did during his drunken state. Then you push him back and he doesn’t voice a complaint like before. You cover him with his blanket and he immediately  accepts the warmth. 

“Do you need anything, Stan?” 

“Yeah, for you to go away.” 

You shake your head “That’s not an option. Anything else?” 

“Alcohol, then. Anything. Go find me  somefin .” He dismissed you as if you weren’t important and you were not going to take that shit from him. 

“No, not that. Sleep.” You crossed your arms in defiance when you saw him glare at you. Stan had a silly face, being all hungover and shit, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly. He still looked so cute, with his dark locks falling over his dark blue eyes, still wearing that red puffball hat you so vividly remember from years ago. He hasn’t changed that much. He was handsome, he was…

Not yours. His heart still belonged to Wendy. And you did your best to keep him by your side. At least that. You didn’t need anything else. 

“I don’t want to sleep. Wonderland’s no fun.”

That caught your attention - he hasn’t mentioned anything about that until now. It was a first.  So you were curious. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him squirm away from you. It might’ve hurt before, but now you were used to it.  So what if he treats you like shit? He treats everyone like that, but he tolerates you enough to let him near him. And this wasn’t Stan you used to know. That version of him was kind to animals, was brave, and fought for what was right. You hoped you could see that side of him again, someday. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

Stan shuts his eyes, grimacing. He doesn’t want to hear about. He told Wendy about Wonderland once, trusting her, and she  _ laughed.  _ She didn’t believe him.  So she thought no one needed to know; it was real for him,  _ so real _ , why should it matter to others? 

But he let it slip now. 

“Wonderland? What’s that?” you asked, hoping to strike a conversation with him. “Is it like Alice’s Wonderland?” 

Ok, the boy knows he wasn’t very original with the naming. He was a kid when he first heard it - and it fit the world in his mind too well. 

“No, it’s not like that!” he snaps, but his voice cracks, from too much yelling, he has no idea. He doesn’t want to know, nor he particularly gives a fuck. “What do you think I am, a  _ kid _ ?” 

“ Dunno , Marsh, sometimes it seems like you are acting like one.” 

The chastising comes out of nowhere and it takes the boy by surprise. You were so gentle with him that he didn’t expect you to snap like that. He glances at you, but you’ve reverted to your normal kind self. He turns back around, feeling lonelier now. 

“You don’t have to be here, [name]. I didn’t ask you to, I didn’t want you to be here.” 

“I care about you, Stan,” you say, defeated. “I care more about you think, so…” 

Stan doesn’t know what to say. He forgot how to feel the kind of affection that you were giving him.  Yet, it lit  something inside of him, making him feel warm. 

“…Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why? Why do you care about me?”  he was angry – angry that you were making him  _ human  _ again.  “We never spoke, I never even noticed you, and you’re here now, acting as if we’re very old friends.”  He huffed, annoyed. “ Do you want something from me?”

“No,” you answered, truthfully. “I don’t want anything. I didn’t want to give up on you when everyone else did.  Don’t ruin yourself, Stan…”

Silence. The sound of his heartbreak thundering in his head. He felt like a little kid once again, wanting attention, for someone to cuddle him and tell him that everything was going to be fine. That he was going to be fixed and whole again. How long has it been since he last received some form of affection? He doesn’t remember – how long has it passed? Months? Years? Hours?

_ Minutes? _

“Wonderland’s my refuge. My  safe haven . A place where  I can be alone – I mean, I’m not  _ really  _ alone . I’m with my…” he was ashamed to  admit it, but the rabbit was already out of the hat. Not like he cared what you thought about him.  “I’m with my  _ imaginary  _ friends.”

“Oh? What are they like?” You smiled, pleased that he was talking to you  about something more personal. You had the impression that Stan didn’t share  this with anyone. So, you were glad you were here for him. 

Stan shrugged under the covers,  weakly.  “They’re better than the ones I have here, anyway.” 

“That’s mean, Stan. You just don’t see how much they care about you– “

“If they care, they would’ve been here!” 

An outburst that was entirely not  justified. He had no right to say that, but  he didn’t think straight – he  just acted. 

“You pushed them away. That’s why they’re not here. Because they got tired of you r shitty treatment.” 

“That’s not true—” 

“You called Kyle, your best  _ fucking friend _ , a sniveling  jew that had the hots for you since you were 12 and he should stay away so he doesn’t infect you.” 

Ouch. That must’ve hurt Kyle, but he doesn’t remember his expression. That was for the best - he wouldn’t forgive himself if he made the redhead cry. Even if he knows deep down that he hurt his friend. Which sucks. Stan doesn’t know if Kyle had it in him to forgive him, but he hopes he does.

If he’ll ever get sober and remember to apologize. 

“ So you see? It was not them, Stan. It was  _ you. _ ”

He groaned, hurt and broken; he wanted you to disappear, he wanted to sleep and go back to Wonderland and apologize to Kyle and all the others for what he has done. He probably won’t stop, but at least he’ll make himself feel better.  _ Hopefully. _

“Please leave,” the boy says, unforgiving. “I don’t need you.”

“You still need  _ someone.  _ And it’s not going to be your imaginary friends, Marsh.” You quickly add when seeing he was about to open his mouth and protest. 

“Then what do you want? You can’t make me feel better, no matter how hard you try. You’re not even special, and- “

“Maybe…” your voice quivers, and he hears the hurt and pain and despair and hope in your tone. “Maybe I can come to Wonderland with you. ”

This time, Stan stands up to get a better look at your face. At that moment, your heart takes a leap: his eyes were  clear and he looked like the old, caring Stan. The one you fell in love with. He looks worried and afraid and conflicted, his emotions crashing into one another as he was trying to  _ believe your words.  _

“My Wonderland is now a ruin. It’s not a fun place anymore. It’s dangerous and toxic.”  _ And it’s all my fault _ , he wanted to add, but his lips were sealed. 

“But - But if you dreamt -- no, imagined me, maybe I can…” you lowered your head, ashamed at your suggestion. He didn’t want you in his life, so why were you even trying?

“Maybe you can  what?”

Y ou lifted your gaze from the floor and  looked into his blue ones. Wait; when did he get this close to you? You could feel his breath on your lips and you were tempted, oh so tempted, to just lean in and kiss him. To taste his bitter lips and feel his rough texture. 

But you couldn’t; not now.

“Maybe I can brighten up your day a little.”


	3. Fixing

He looks doubtful, he looks hopeful. He wants to believe in you, in your powers, in his ability to recover. But he was also a skeptic, doubtful of your intentions - were just playing along because you felt  _ pity  _ for him? Or were there other evil intentions behind your smile. Behind those beautiful [e/c] orbs, sparkling dearly in the sun’s small shine. You seemed trustworthy. And he didn’t regret agreeing to this idea with a small nod and a half-smile. He didn’t even realize he was already doing it, and it was too late to take it back.

Besides, it made you happy. Your face lightened up like a thousand suns. 

“Well, um…” You had no idea where to go from there. “Shall I- Shall I sit in the bed next to you or…” Your cheeks reddened; that was bold, even for you. And his gaze was so intense, staring into your soul - his breath mingled with yours. You noticed his long, bushy eyelashes, the flecks of grey in his irises; the way his hair was falling over his forehead, some strands curled up in a mess. He still wore his hat,  _ surprisingly _ , still in good shape, although its colors were a bit faded. He smelled: of alcohol, of a faint hint of cologne. You missed the old Stan scent and as you two got closer to each other, you felt like…

Like…

** Home. **

Your lips were trembling as he cups one side of your face with determination. You exhale in a tremor and your eyelashes flutter closed,  _ afraid.  _ Was he going to kiss you? 

And the more important question:  ** why?  **

Why was he doing this? Why was he getting close? Why was he touching you? What was he trying to achieve? He never showed he like your presence in any way, so this must be a joke, he was playing with your dumb feelings and if you put hope into this, you’ll only get hurt. 

You’ll be a fallen angel. 

All connection from your thoughts is cut loose when your lips  actually make contact. It’s shy and awkward and Stan feels stupid for forgetting what a kiss tasted like. He doesn’t know how to do it and, at  first, his face is burning hot with shame. He  pecks and licks and you follow his lead, lost in the moment.  So what if he was kissing you? You’ve wanted this for such a long time, you've never felt so alive. Sparks between the two of you, heat in your cheeks and hands and mingled breaths as he wakes up from his stupor. 

His eyes close, deepening the kiss, still shy as if this was his first kiss ever. He tests, he feels you burning alive under him; and he craves for more. But he  has to stop, or else he’ll lose control. But it feels so intoxicating and he’s losing himself into it. When did kissing felt this good? How long has it been since he last kissed Wendy’s lips? Yours are  definitely better . Or he has just forgotten how Wendy’s feel; but at that moment he doesn’t care about Wendy. He cares about you and the way you were making him feel, reanimating his body and emotions. Lighting up a spark in his brain that told him he must come back, that what he was doing was wrong.

_ But I’m addicted. _

Stan dear, you can always stop if you really want to or just don’t drink that much. Were you talking into his head right now? He was losing his mind, that’s how good this kiss was. How hungry he was for interaction and for affection. He missed going to school and chatting. He missed the shit that was always going down in South Park. He missed the bickering between Kyle and Cartman, between his group and Craig’s. He missed getting bored to death in class, he missed Wendy; but most of all, he wanted to see  ** you  ** more. He wanted to get to know you better, to make up for all the shitty things he has done. He wants to hug you, thank you, feel you - 

But all he could give you right now was a kiss. A kiss you obsessed over, all along. 

He breaks it, he holds your face and stares at your serene expression. When you finally open your eyes, you grin, but you try your best to hold it back. 

“What was that for, Marsh?” you can’t help but ask, breathless. 

“I just felt like it. Are you... _ mad _ ?”

You sandwich his free hand between yours, smiling softly. “No. No, I am not.” 

And that’s all you had to say for him to understand.  _ Everything.  _ He doesn’t have to reply, because he has no idea what. He was blind to you, to everyone around. And he feels like he  has to make amends. That won’t be easy, and the process will be slow, but he  has to try. He  has to start caring again. Maybe it will take months, years, to make everyone trust him again, but he’ll be lost without his friends, without you,  _ his guide.  _

So he squeezes your hand, takes off his hat, and tells you “Let’s go to Wonderland, then.” 

You follow him into his bed, and cuddle next to him, circling his waist with your arm. He turns around, facing you with his back, and curls himself up under the warm covers. You don’t mind being the big spoon, knowing that Stan needed it more than you did right now. You inhale his mixed scent and bury your nose in the hollow of his neck and shoulder for extra intimacy. You felt so tiny behind him, but it only made the whole scene cuter. He stares at the blinds for a long while, deep in thought and drowning in regret. When he makes sure you were asleep, he lets go: he starts crying fat tears, in silence and shame, biting his lower lip as to not let out a single incriminating sound.

His heart hurts and he  wants to die - how can he believe that he can patch things up? There was not a single chance…

But a small part of him wants to believe.  So he continues to cry until he feels like he was spent, although there was still sadness inside of him. That probably wouldn’t go away in a long while. But, at long last, he was going on the right track. His eyes flutter closed, drowsy, his mind spinning, the tug of Wonderland pulling him under. To warmer, safer places - or they used to be. Now it was dark and cold; he didn’t want to go back. He was afraid of what he did, of how his friends would react. He weakly clutches at the sheets, but he has no grip as he’s falling prey to sleep. 

Stan Marsh is pulled into the vortex of thoughts, words, and feelings, dark and grey, then light. He’s falling, but he’s changed - he has the power to stop the fall. As opposed to the real world he doesn’t want to face, here, he can do  _ anything.  _ Whatever he imagines, it can become true.  So he believes he can fly as he bursts through the grey haze and through the clouds. He grows imaginary and transparent white wings and  _ gliding.  _ He sees the dark grey sky and the rotten landscape of what used to be a forest. The trees were leafless, branches twisted and covered in black slime, the flowers were  gone and nothing seemed to be able to survive in this…

_ World. _

But Stan didn’t care. He carries hope in his heart that you will be here, hidden somewhere, just waiting to pop-up and brighten his day. He flew over the top of the trees, scouting and trying to enjoy the breeze. He couldn’t see anyone - and the ominous sound of wailing that came from afar made him sick. Was everyone gone? Did he really killed them all and couldn’t bring them to life? No - they were all part of his imagination, they couldn’t just leave him like this. He had to find them, his precious friends who kept him company  every since he was little. 

He goes to where he knew he’ll find Mad Hatter. 

Luckily, he does. He’s alive and well and not beheaded like just a few hours ago. Alive and well and  ** angry.  **

“Oh no, you bastard!” he immediately calls, his hat jiggling crazily on top of his head, ready to fall. His eyes were crazed and afraid, threatening Stan with his can. “You stay the fuck away from me!” 

Stan raised his palms in surrender, walking slowly towards the redhead. “I’m sorry, Kyle-”

“Who the fuck  are you talking about?” Kyle snapped. “Have you completely lost your mind, King? I’m the Mad Hatter, but you’re madder than me!” 

Stan wanted to laugh at that awful pun, but he was too afraid he was going to lose Mad Hatter. If he couldn’t argue with imaginary Kyle, then he wouldn’t win real Kyle back. 

“I am sorry, Hatter. It all happened because I was in distress. I did not mean to... _ do all that.  _ It only happened once. I know I’ve fucked up. And I  _ hate  _ myself for it.” That bit was true. Sometimes he believes he’d rather be dead than keep on making people around him suffer.

But, if other worse people got second chances, why wouldn’t he also get one? He promised he wouldn’t waste it. 

“I want to change. I want to be better. I don’t want to go through that again, or hurt you in any way…” He sounds remorseful, a moment of sincerity that  made Hatter stop his verbal attack. He relaxed and waited, listening. Stan took that as a positive  sign and continued “I’m sorry. It was cruel of me. But...But there’s someone who can help me. I can recover.”

He sounded positive. And Mad Hatter was thrown off his guard. “Who? Who is coming to Wonderland?” He was skeptic and afraid - no one new came to Wonderland just like that. Something must’ve happened to Stan. Something  ** good.  **

“I-Someone who can help me remediate Wonderland. And make it right again.” 

“Huh…” Mad Hatter Kyle relaxed his posture after hearing that. “Well, that’s good, I guess. Where is this person?” 

Stan`s blue eyes were searching around, but he had no idea where you were “Not sure…I have to find them…”

“Maybe I can help-” but Hatter`s words were immediately lost as Stan looked up, at the grey sky. He saw a blinding light and the clouds split in two,  _ unbelievably.  _ And a ray -  _ a fucking ray of sun  _ \- came down, like a blessing.  His eyes widened, as an  _ angel,  _ a real angel came down from the heavens. It was you, in all your glory, flapping your beautiful golden wings as you came down, spreading out your light. From that distance, Stan could see your beautiful smile and warm gaze as you looked all around the land. Surveying the dark and red landscape, gory; a frown marred your lips at the state of Stan`s mental state. The effect it had on Wonderland, Stan`s own imaginary world.

It made you sad to see…

You had to mend it in some way. 

“Stan?” you call out his name, searching. He could hear you, but his voice wasn’t loud enough to answer. “Where are you?” With each worried word, the world changes. With each flutter of the wings, Wonderland turns better. With each gesture of the hand,  you purify the whole place, bringing joy and smiles on faces. It all gets brighter, the rotten corpses and guts disappear in a red cloud, toxicity clearing out. “ Staaaan ?” 

“I’m here! HERE! [Name]!! Please--” 

However, it doesn’t take you long to spot him. “Stan!” you yell, full of warmth and happiness. You  glide down, arms spread out as to embrace him. He mimics your movement and you two  meet at the middle, falling into each other’s arms. You hug and neither want to ever let go. 

“It’s time to say goodbye to Wonderland, Stan.” 

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t mind. He embraces the darkness and  lets go. 


End file.
